Peter Sarstedt
Sons of Cain Are Abel
We had this fine old place in the country
Where we grew melancholy on the lawn
Torn between our Sunday worlds

We had girl there who rode a motorcycle
Moving at ninety miles an hour
Towering six feet black

Yes we all used to wonder what was happening
When we danced half naked in the night
Right or wrong we carried on

The sons of Cain yeah ooh
The sons of Cain yeah ooh
The sons of Cain
Are Abel

We never had such a thing as conversation
We used to stare so blindly caring not
What was eating at our brains

There is a torchlight face I will remember
That even I couldn't pass off as a joke
Broken token drowning slow

We had a half starved poet writing nothing
He used to blurt something out
Then scratch his head
Felt the sickness ruefully
The sons of Cain yeah ooh
The sons of Cain and only ooh
The sons of Cain
Are Abel

As I was walking slowly through the lovely garden
And someone's sick homosexual half world
Twirled around it maybe love

And then when God made summer into autumn
Just like the leaves everyone began to fall
All, was empty I left too

The sons of Cain yeah ooh
The sons of Cain and only ooh
The sons of Cain
Are Abel

The sons of Cain yeah ooh
The sons of Cain and only ooh
The sons of Cain
Are Abel